Page 104 of The Great Dating Fake Off
But he doesn’t. Neither of us moves until it feels almost like a standoff. If one of us doesn’t do something, I’m going to need a pillow to scream into.
So I smile, the portrait of innocence. “How about a tour of your room?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sebastian
My room.
I’m already hanging on by a thread, and now she’ll be near my bed.
“That depends.” My hand is so firmly latched on her perfect ass as hers roam my chest I can barely concentrate on the words coming out of my mouth. “Can we behave ourselves so I don’t break my own rule?”
“What’s the rule, exactly?”
“I won’t touch you under my grandmother’s roof. It’s my rule, not hers. Our bedrooms share a wall.”
Not that she’s in her bedroom…
I grit my teeth as she places her hand over my heart and pushes me back a step. “You got it. Lead the way.”
I take her hand and lead her to my bedroom, wrestling with the decision to close the door.
If I’m basing it on how much I trust myself, I should leave it wide open.
But I pull it closed, mostly so her inevitable laughter at whatever she finds in my room doesn’t carry across the house.
She lifts her hands to her cheeks as soon as we step inside. I try to see the room through her eyes—plaid wallpaper, a queen-sized bed, my favorite reading chair in the corner. Everything in here is a collection of what I deemed important enough not to stick in my storage unit when I moved in.
She takes a small lap around the space. Her summer dress hangs so nicely off her body, loose enough to be suggestive but tight enough to drive me up the wall.
“Oh, lookee here.” She gravitates toward the hooks on the wall near my closet.
With a cheeky grin lobbed my way, she removes my favorite Mets cap from the wall and puts it over her glossy hair.
Goddamn, she’s sexy, beautiful, and cute all rolled into one tempting tease of a package. Especially now that she’s sauntering around the place where I’ve abused my cock imagining her the last few weeks.
She’s looking at me like she’s fully aware she’s pushing me to the brink. Her eyes could lure a sailor to land.
I should really open that door. Instead, I exhale, shifting past her in pursuit of my reading chair so I can sit on my hands.
As I make myself comfortable—as much as I can with her dancing on my restraint—she moves toward the opposite wall, home to two bookcases.
“Should’ve known you’d gravitate toward the books,” I say.
“I like what I like.” She hinges at the waist to read the spines on a low shelf.
I don’t bother looking away. If she wants to bend over for me, I’m not going to stop her.
She peers back to look at me. “War and Peace. I should’ve known.”
“Uh-huh.” I grip the armrest as she finishes her inspection.
“You’ve got a lot of good stuff.” She rises to full height and whirls around slowly, taunting me with eye contact as she approaches.
Apparently, we’re bored of looking at my things.
The hair on my arms stands up as she comes to a stop in front of my legs. “You’re a quiet tour guide.”
